


bunch of broken picture frames

by GingerHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angels and Demons, Angst, France - Freeform, Love, M/M, Sad, but i love WhoisAlaska, this is rubbish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerHoran/pseuds/GingerHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's in the South of France, he needed a distraction.<br/>But in a pretty vineyard he sees the angel that floated away with the demon, taking his heart along with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bunch of broken picture frames

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hi Amy, I was listening to the Neighbourhood and this just poured out onto a sheet of paper. Take this as a repayment for your gift, I don't know what it is to be perfectly honest.

Nobody's really sure what Harry's doing stumbling around the south of France with a journal and a couple of hundred euros.

Gemma thinks it's a life crisis, she thinks her little brother has hit an inspirational stump and needs a little travelling to help him overcome the little bump on the road of life. Anne sends him constant texts, demanding a phone call every week to makes sure he's alive, and eating and not letting his thoughts overcome him.

He's preoccupied with the warm weather, and the French accents and the amazing wine; he finds himself staying in shitty hotels with paper thin walls and dust fans on the ceilings, drinking cheap chateau Blanc and eating cheeses and breads, but it's a little bit of culture he absorbs so it's not much harm.

The suns pretty harsh this morning, and Harry feels lazy and can't be bothered doing the usual trek round the traditional courtyard near his bed and breakfast to the convenience store, where they sell chocolate bars and the usual shit he eats at 7am.

Trekking around the pretty courtyard, surrounded by bunches of pretty blue roses with torn petals and scars, the sun was reflecting the almost dusty surface, Harry notices something different in the distance. It was the long fields of a vineyard, small trees growing in straight rows with the sun harshly beating down, and those little pellets of pure gold growing red and vibrant.

Harry didn't hesitate to mark the place with a large circle on his rumpled map, it was his next destination, another thought to take up the empty place in his brain.

Another distraction.

 

It was beautiful up near the hill, the sun was warm against Harry's bare shoulder turning the skin an even more golden colour, the road was dusty and a pathway littered with small little evergreen trees. Everything was glistening in the sun, almost as if some deity had just freshly sprinkled the place with water, making it glisten and shimmer like rippling water and it's simply awe inspiring.

Harry loves it here, he wants to pack up his shit here, take his journal and just write. Buy a little apartment with a little tiled kitchen, intricate little portraits and a large white bed, and walk up this hill every morning with some bread and brie.

It would be a simple life, with no hurdles or rocky bumps, everything would be smooth sailing and easy. Maybe too easy but who cared, life wasn't meant to be all suffering and chasing emotions, it was meant to be about finding happiness and  
settling down somewhere.

At the top of the hill was a large guilded gate, it was a little oddly placed in front of the vineyard, but it was beautifully designed, with little gold patterned leaves speckled with black splatters. Harry fumbled with the latch on his brown leather satchel, pulling out his journal and wishing for the sketching skills to draw it, unfortunately he was not blessed with these particular attributes but he described it with short snappy sentences with his large, swirly penmanship.

Then as he was poetically jotting down random thoughts something in the background stopped him, his pen pausing on the paper, his thought jumbling, and his broken heart tearing further.

It was the sun, the golden heating furnace, with sparkled sapphires and polished marble skin dotted with freckles that only added to its perfection.  
  
Harry wanted to run.

 

Harry's always been more of an observer of life rather than a participator, always on the sidelines just watching, mentally taking notes and just staying quiet.

That observing however became rather heavy on his shoulders in, rather than something he preferred it became a burden, a curse almost, because he just didn't have the courage to do something.

Niall was loud and brash and bright, he loved anything and anyone, his large heart was the pit that hundreds of people just fell into, they couldn't help it, Niall always had his heart wide open.

Harry remembered the night when his heart which was closed, and dark and beating was smashed against the concrete, leaving it a bloody, pulpy and barely beating muscle.

He had only wanted to feel like he was actually breathing, like he was human, and that he could love.  
But that white soul with fire in his blue eyes was kidnapped by a boy who had coals studded in the base of his heart, he was smokey and dangerous.

And Harry was lonely again, he was alone and afraid of everything, he no longer had dreams but nightmares, he screamed and cried and his sore heart was slowly stitched together by the hope that he would find someone to love him back.

Suddenly though, he'd had enough of observing the black demon and the white angel, so he packed up his bags and kissed his mother and left his house. He needed time to explore, but he never stops thinking about the boy with the sapphire eyes, he's always there lingering in the back of his seemingly empty mind.

 

  
He's found him, his precious white angel, he's just as beautiful as he had always imagined and he looks just as happy.

Harry realises he has nothing in this place, because the boys there picking those grapes and the demon is in the background with a cigarette that's dropping ash on the dry grass.

But the demon is smiling a white toothed grin, and his eyes are no longer coal but it seems they've turned a soft brown, and the coals that were once studded like bolts into his heart have become diamonds.

It almost stabs him like cupids arrow, because the demon loves the angel, and Harry now just feels selfish to want the angel in his own arms.

They fit now, they're both angels with spread wings that are patterned with splattered black and blue paints and although Harry wants Niall to float over to him and sit like a cloud in his arms, he doesn't belong to him.

And as he gazes at the stolen sun with a heavy heart, there's nothing he can do, nothing he can say, he's just an observer in this life.

The angel belongs to a demon.

 

 


End file.
